


Fortune Favors

by enigmaticblue



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-22
Updated: 2011-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been a simple trip to the bank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune Favors

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt "hostages."

“Hey, Jim, I need to run to the bank,” Blair announced cheerfully. “You need anything?”

 

Jim glanced up with a smile. “Other than finishing this report? No.”

 

“Lunch?” Blair suggested.

 

He thought about it for a minute. “I’d really like to finish this. Simon’s chomping at the bit, and we’ve got that interview for the Simpson case this afternoon.”

 

“I can pick up sandwiches from the deli around the corner,” Blair offered.

 

“Yeah, sure. Roast beef on sourdough,” Jim replied.

 

Blair rolled his eyes. “One of these days, you’re going to have to start thinking about your arteries.”

 

Jim grinned. “Why, when I have you to do it for me?”

 

Blair grabbed his jacket and waved at Jim in a gesture that clearly said “whatever, man,” and Jim chuckled as he turned back to his computer.

 

Jim was so intent on finishing that he didn’t notice that Blair hadn’t returned until he’d printed the completed report. His stomach growled, reminding Jim that Blair should have arrived up with their sandwiches by now.

 

“Sandburg,” Jim growled, reaching for the phone to call Blair. “You’d better not have stopped to flirt down in Records.”

 

“Jim!” Simon called, coming out of his office into the bullpen. “We’ve got a hostage situation at First National Bank.”

 

Jim froze, the phone still in his hand. “First National?”

 

Simon frowned. “That’s what I said. Where’s your partner?”

 

“He went to the bank,” Jim replied quietly, feeling the first stirrings of panic.

 

Simon’s eyes widened. “Doesn’t he—”

 

“Yeah.” Jim quickly dialed Blair’s cell phone, groaning when he heard it ringing on Blair’s desk across from Jim. “Dammit. What do we know, Simon?”

 

“The alarm went off about five minutes ago,” Simon replied. “SWAT got tied up across town with a domestic turned hostage situation, and there was a major accident that forced them to reroute on their way across town. It’s going to take them some time to get there.”

 

Jim grabbed his jacket. “Simon, if Blair’s in the bank, and they find out he’s a cop…”

 

“I know, Jim. We’re closest, so it’s ours until SWAT arrives.” Simon raised his voice. “Okay, people! First National has a hostage situation, and we’re closest. Let’s move!”

 

The bank was just around the corner, and Jim and Simon covered the distance at a fast jog. Police cruisers had already surrounded the bank, creating a perimeter. Uniforms were setting up barricades, and Jim could hear the sounds of weapons being primed, the howl of approaching ambulances, and the excited murmur from the growing crowd.

 

Jim followed Simon to a position behind one of the cruisers closest to the bank, flashing his badge when one of the uniforms tried to stop them. He crouched down, frowning as he tried to filter out the noise.

 

“Jim?” Simon queried. “Do you have anything?”

 

“Give me a second, Simon,” Jim replied. Pushing aside the worry he felt for Blair, Jim identified each sound and then relegated it to the background, extending his sense of hearing towards the interior of the bank. He felt Simon’s hand grip his shoulder, providing a point of contact that would keep Jim from zoning. Jim nodded his thanks and listened for Blair.

 

Jim could almost feel the “click” as Blair’s voice caught his attention. “Look, man, you don’t have to do this.”

 

Jim closed his eyes. Now that he had a bead on Blair’s voice, it was easier to focus.

 

“You’re a pig!” Jim closed his eyes, searching for any clues from the voice. It sounded male, and young, but that was about it. “You’re a fucking cop!”

 

“Okay, I hear you, man,” Blair replied soothingly. “Look, maybe we could help each other out here. I can get a negotiator on the line. You’ve got me as a hostage. That’s all you need.”

 

“Don’t tell me what I need!” There was an edge of hysteria to the voice that Jim didn’t like. Blair could talk just about anyone into doing anything, but even he couldn’t reason with someone who refused to listen from the outset.

 

“Okay,” Blair replied immediately. “I don’t know what you need, but I know the guard needs a doctor. You’ve got the control. Nobody’s died yet. Let’s keep it that way.”

 

“Sit down!” the perpetrator shouted. “Don’t move! Don’t anybody fucking move, or I will fucking kill all of you!”

 

Jim kept most of his attention on what was going down inside the bank, but he knew he had a report to make. “Blair is trying to talk the guy down, but he sounds like he’s about a second away from going on a spree. I don’t think Blair is going to get anywhere.”

 

“Come on, man,” Blair was saying. “You’re in control here. We’re listening to you. I’m sure you want to go home safe just as much as we do.”

 

“Can you see anything?” Simon asked.

 

Jim shook his head, frustrated. “No, he’s staying well away from the windows. Even I can’t see through walls.”

 

“You think you know what’s going on?” the perp demanded. “You think you can see inside my head? This is fucked up. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

 

“It’s been a bad day,” Blair agreed. “But that doesn’t mean it has to get worse.”

 

“You’re the only one it’s gonna get worse for! I could kill you! I’d do it.”

 

“I believe you, but man, you know what happens if you kill a cop. You’ll never walk out of here,” Blair said, still using the same tone of voice he used when Jim was pissed off and ready to throw him against a wall. “So, why don’t we work on all of us walking out of here?”

 

Jim wished he had some way of communicating with Blair. Hell, Jim wished _he_ were the one inside the bank. If their positions had been reversed, Jim knew Blair would have sat outside, talking nonstop, feeding Jim information and plans.

 

“Sandburg isn’t getting through to him,” Jim said finally. “The guy isn’t even listening. Unless Sandburg can talk him out of the bank, or at least get him to move in front of the windows, we’re stuck.”

 

At least this bank had gotten rid of its blinds, which gave SWAT—and Jim—a clear shot once the robber appeared, and Jim knew he eventually would. The only question was how many people would be hurt before they could take him out.

 

“So, Sandburg is okay?” Simon asked.

 

“So far,” Jim replied. “He’s got the guy fixated on him right now, but Blair said something about the guard being shot. I need a rifle. If he comes into view, I want the option of taking him out before he shoots Sandburg.”

 

He cocked his head as Blair said, “Look, there’s just one of you, and there are a dozen cop cars outside the bank now, with twice that many cops. Just give it up, man. Nobody has to die today.”

 

Someone else might have been persuaded, but this guy wasn’t buying it. “I’m not going to jail! Come on!” the robber shouted. “Get over here!”

 

Simon handed Jim a rifle, and Jim braced it on the hood of the police car as he said, “I think the guy is coming out with Sandburg as his hostage.”

 

Jim chambered a round just as he caught sight of the robber through the plate glass windows. The perp had Blair in front of him as a human shield, and Jim swore under his breath when he couldn’t get a clear shot.

 

The perp had Blair in a headlock, the muzzle of a pistol pressed into the side of Blair’s head, as he exited the bank.

 

“I’ll shoot him!” the robber shouted. He didn’t look much older than 20, and Jim hated to think of a life wasted so early. “I’ll kill him if you don’t let me walk away from here!”

 

The robber was jerking around, keeping Blair solidly in front of his body. If the perp stopped moving for even a second, Jim could make the head shot, but he was going to have to time it carefully, and it would have to be perfect. One mistake, and the perp’s finger would jerk on the trigger, and Blair would be dead.

 

“SWAT is still five minutes away,” Simon said quietly. “If you have the shot, take it.”

 

Time seemed to slow as Jim dialed everything up, knowing that he was going to get one chance. He could see Blair’s pale, frightened face, see the bruise blossoming under one eye, and hear Blair’s murmured, “You’ve got this, Jim.”

 

Jim hoped Blair’s faith in him wasn’t misplaced, because he was never going to forgive himself if he fucked this up.

 

 _There_. The robber’s grip loosened ever so slightly, the muzzle of the gun moved away from Blair’s head just a fraction, and the perp stopped moving for one brief second. Jim exhaled and pulled the trigger.

 

Blair and the perp went down in a tangle of limbs and the glass door shattered, but Jim had seen the bullet hit its mark. He heard Blair say, “I’m okay, I’m okay!” as cops swarmed the front of the bank.

 

“Take care of your partner,” Simon said as Jim handed him the rifle. “Get him checked out, and then come to the station to give your statements.”

 

“Thanks, Simon,” Jim called as he jogged towards Blair.

 

A uniform was already helping Blair to his feet and securing the robber’s weapon. “You okay?” Jim demanded.

 

Blair nodded shakily. “Nice shot.”

 

“Let’s get you seen by the paramedics,” he said, taking Blair’s arm, trying not to look at the blood splashed across the right side of Blair’s face and in his hair.

 

Blair shook his head. “No, the guard gets looked at first. He was bleeding out pretty fast.”

 

Jim nodded at the paramedics already sweeping past them. “He’s getting help. Come on.”

 

Blair was trembling. “I think I need to sit down.”

 

“I know you do, buddy,” Jim replied. He led Blair over to one of the free ambulances. Blair tried to shrug off the offered medical attention, but Jim insisted. “You’ve got blood in your hair,” Jim said.

 

“Gross.” Blair swiped at his face with his sleeve.

 

“Here,” the medic said, holding out an antiseptic wipe.

 

Blair took it, but his hand was shaking so much that Jim grabbed it. “Hold still,” Jim murmured, wiping the blood off with firm, gentle strokes. “You did good, Sandburg.”

 

“I didn’t do anything,” he replied. “He shot the guard before I even saw the gun.”

 

“Yeah, but he didn’t shoot anybody else,” Jim replied. “That counts for a lot.” Jim tried to get as much of the blood out of Blair’s hair as he could, but finally had to give up. “You can shower at the station before you give your statement.”

 

“No, man, I just want to get this over with. We’ve got that interview this afternoon,” Blair replied.

 

Jim shook his head. “We’re going to give our statements, and then we’re going to go home.”

 

“Jim—”

 

“IA is going to clear me pretty quickly, but I’ll be riding a desk until they do,” Jim said. “And you’re probably going to have to see the department shrink before Simon lets you back out in the field.”

 

Blair took a deep breath. “Right. You’re right.”

 

“I usually am,” Jim joked, a little worried when Blair didn’t respond to his attempt at humor. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah. Sure.”

 

The next few hours were a blur of questions and interviews. For once, the cop from IA wasn’t an asshole, and the interview was over almost as soon as it began. “It was a clean shoot, Ellison,” Jacobs said. “I’ll have the report typed up, and you can sign it tomorrow.”

 

“Thanks,” Jim replied, wanting to check on Blair, who was giving his statement to Joel in another room.

 

Blair was still with Joel when Jim joined Simon in observation. Blair was saying, “I couldn’t talk him down. I think he was on something.”

 

“He probably was,” Joel replied. “Tell me, what happened after he figured out you were a cop?”

 

Jim turned to Simon. “How much longer?”

 

“A while,” Simon replied. “That was a good shot, Jim.”

 

Jim shrugged off the praise. He’d done what had to be done, and he hadn’t fucked up. That was all that mattered. “It wasn’t the hardest one I’ve had to make.”

 

“Once he’s finished, take him home and take the rest of the evening off,” Simon ordered. “Let me know if he needs more time.”

 

“Will do,” Jim promised. He turned back to the interview room and shoved his hands in his pockets, listening to Blair’s voice. He never got tired of that sound.

 

“How are you?” Simon asked knowingly.

 

“I’ll be fine.” After a pause, Jim added, “It was too close, Simon. It was just supposed to be a trip to the bank.”

 

“When is it ever that simple with Sandburg?” Simon asked, clapping Jim on the shoulder. “Good thing he’s got you to pull his ass out of the fire.”

 

Jim sighed. “Yeah. Good thing.”

 

~~~~~

 

Blair was vibrating by the time Jim got him home. “Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll call for pizza,” Jim suggested.

 

“Yeah, man, that sounds good. Thanks.”

 

Jim kept an ear out for Blair as he made the call to Blair’s favorite pizza place, ordering a veggie combo. It wasn’t Jim’s preference, but he figured that Blair deserved a little consideration after the day he’d had.

 

Blair finally emerged from the bathroom some time later, his hair still wet. He was wearing one of Jim’s old Cascade PD sweatshirts and a pair of faded jeans with holes in the knees.

 

“Feel better?” Jim asked.

 

Blair shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. You want a beer?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Jim sipped his beer as Blair paced the living room, almost vibrating with nervous energy. Blair was the sort of person who needed to go over everything again, to rehash every move and describe everything that had happened. That trait drove Jim crazy when Blair wanted to talk about Jim’s feelings, or his senses, but Jim didn’t mind talking if the subject was Blair.

 

Besides, Jim had come far too close to losing his partner today. Whatever Blair needed, Jim would give him.

 

“I didn’t even draw my gun,” Blair blurted out.

 

“From what I heard, you didn’t have a chance,” Jim replied evenly.

 

Blair shook his head. “It all happened so fast. One minute, I’m standing in line, and the next this _kid_ is shooting the guard.”

 

“You had your badge on your hip when you walked into the bank,” Jim said, replying to what Blair hadn’t said. “He made you for a cop then, and if you hadn’t dropped your weapon, he would have dropped you.”

 

Blair shook his head. “If I’d been paying attention, maybe I could have stopped him.”

 

Jim had heard enough of Blair’s interview with Joel to know exactly how it had gone down. “Blair, he shot the guard, and then he pointed his gun at you.”

 

“But—”

 

“There were 19 other hostages in that bank. You got him to focus on you, and then you got him outside where we could take him out,” Jim insisted. “You did everything you could.”

 

Blair opened his mouth—probably to argue—when the intercom buzzed. “Let me grab the pizza,” Jim said.

 

By the time Jim had paid the pizza guy, Blair had plates and silverware set out, and Jim put the pizza on the table. “You want to eat in the living room?” he asked.

 

Blair raised his eyebrows. “You’re suspending the house rules?”

 

“Don’t get used to it,” Jim advised.

 

Blair opened the box and stared. “Jim, this is a veggie combo.”

 

“Yeah?” Jim reached for a slice. “I’m starving. I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch.”

 

“But—you _hate_ the veggie combo.”

 

“I don’t hate it,” Jim countered. “But it’s your favorite.”

 

Blair blinked. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, _oh_ , Einstein,” Jim replied, not seeing what the big deal was. “Come on, you’ve got to be hungry. Eat up.”

 

“Yeah,” Blair muttered, putting a couple of slices on his plate.

 

“So, what were you going to say earlier?” Jim asked.

 

Blair hesitated. “It’s not important.”

 

“Sure it is,” Jim said easily, settling on the couch. “So, what is it?”

 

“What would you have done in my shoes?”

 

Jim sighed. “I don’t know.”

 

“Come on,” Blair protested. “That’s a cop-out.”

 

“No, it’s the truth,” Jim insisted. “What would you have done in _my_ place?”

 

Blair took a breath, and then took a bite of pizza. “I don’t know,” he admitted after a minute. “I probably would have had to wait for SWAT, but…”

 

Jim ate his pizza, waiting for Blair to work through the problem. “I hear you,” Blair finally sighed. “We’re different people, and we have different skills.”

 

“You did the right thing,” Jim insisted. “You kept your head, and you kept the people in the bank safe. No one could have asked more of you.”

 

“And you made that shot,” Blair countered. “You saved my life.”

 

Jim shrugged it off. “Just your blessed protector at work.”

 

Blair snorted. “You’re selling yourself short, Jim.”

 

Jim kept eating, thinking that the pizza wasn’t too bad. He preferred all-meat, but he could see why Blair liked it. He got up for another slice, keeping an eye on Blair, depositing a third slice on Blair’s plate when he came back into the living room. “You want another beer?”

 

“You’re still on blessed protector overdrive,” Blair accused.

 

Jim shrugged. “So? You want another beer?”

 

“Why not?” Blair said.

 

Jim snagged another couple of bottles from the fridge. “Don’t get used to the service,” Jim advised, as he sat next to Blair on the couch.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Blair replied, giving Jim a strange look. “It was a close call today, wasn’t it?”

 

“Too close,” Jim confirmed, shuddering at the thought.

 

“I can still feel his blood on my face,” Blair admitted.

 

Jim grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

 

“Don’t apologize!” Blair exclaimed. “Geez, Jim.” Blair stared at Jim, his face thoughtful. Jim recognized that expression; Blair was close to solving a problem.

 

Jim raised his eyebrows in a silent question, wondering just what was going through Blair’s head. He polished off his last slice of pizza while he waited for Blair to come out with it.

 

Blair took a deep breath, a determined light in his eyes. “Do me a favor, and don’t freak,” he said, and then he closed the distance between them.

 

The kiss was a revelation.

 

Jim couldn’t claim that he’d never thought of Blair in that way, but he’d figured those thoughts were idle fantasies, like the ones he still occasionally had about Caroline. Blair was his friend, and Jim had tried that in the past. He’d never wanted to risk what they did have for what they _might_ have.

 

But Blair’s mouth was warm, and his lips were soft. Jim could taste beer and pizza, and underneath that was something inexplicably, undeniably _Blair._

 

It was a far cry from the fountain, when Blair’s lips had been cold and unyielding, and he’d tasted of chlorine. Tasting Blair now, it was like the last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Jim had known how Blair looked and smelled and sounded and felt like for years. Now, he knew how Blair tasted, too.

 

Blair pulled back, disappointing Jim, although he was too focused on the lingering flavor on his lips to chase Blair down. “Okay, that’s not how I pictured this going,” Blair said.

 

Jim frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, I always figured you’d hit me if I tried something like that,” Blair replied, sounding a little impatient.

 

Baiting Blair was a reflex, which was why Jim asked, “Why would I hit you?” When Blair glared at him, Jim added, “It was just a kiss, Chief.”

 

Blair stood. “Right. Just a kiss. We can forget it ever happened.”

 

Jim realized he’d pushed a little too far, and he reached out to snag Blair’s wrist. “I don’t want to forget it,” he protested. “What made you take the chance, if you thought I’d hit you?” he asked once Blair sat back down.

 

Blair shrugged and looked away, not meeting Jim’s eyes. “You ordered a veggie combo.”

 

“Yeah, so?” Jim asked, not seeing Blair’s point. “ _You_ like it.”

 

Blair laughed freely. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

 

“What’s to get?” Jim asked. “It was a good kiss.”

 

Blair smiled sweetly. “Yeah, it really was.”

 

“Want to try for a repeat?” Jim asked, leaning forward.

 

“Sure, man.”

 

And then Blair’s lips were on his again, and Jim was intoxicated. The second kiss was even better, and Jim lay back on the couch, pulling Blair with him until their legs were tangled together.

 

Blair pulled back finally, resting his forehead against Jim’s. “They say fortune favors the brave,” he murmured.

 

Jim pushed his hand into Blair’s hair, cradling the back of Blair’s skull. “We’re definitely the fortunate ones,” he replied. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” Blair promised.

 

Jim tightened his hold, feeling Blair’s warm, heavy weight—it was proof of life, and Jim needed this. He needed Blair. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

 

“Yeah, sure, man,” Blair murmured against Jim’s shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

 

Jim just wanted to savor his good fortune for a bit.


End file.
